


The Tale of the Angry Otter

by alexcat



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 03:12:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexcat/pseuds/alexcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oropher and Glorfindel take a moment each day for reflection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tale of the Angry Otter

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Larian Elensar   
> Request: For Chaotic Binky, lover of otters! Rating = Any, Pairing = Oropher/Glorfindel, Story elements to include = the word 'happiness', an otter, a small gold chain, humour, Does Not Want = death, angst.

The Tale of the Angry Otter

Oropher slipped away from both his army and his tent. He walked down by the river, or what was left of it. Years of siege and the dark evil of Sauron had nearly dried up the small stream. He smiled though as he waited for his companion. He had a bottle of wine in one hand and a pair of goblets in the other. He spotted Glorfindel coming from Gil-galad’s encampment. 

“You are late.” 

“I had to deal with a problem. Someone sent a box to the King and inside that box was an angry little otter. I had to find somewhere to keep the little fellow out of harm’s way before Gil-galad managed to kill him. Do you have any ideas about who might have done something like that?” Glorfindel raised an eyebrow at Oropher. 

“Maybe it was Elrond. I swear that one is not nearly as nice as he pretends to be. Too much human blood in him, I’d wager.” 

Glorfindel laughed out loud as he took the wine bottle and began to open it. Oropher held the glasses out to be filled. 

“I think that Elrond is not to be blamed this time. I think that perhaps it came from your camp.”

Oropher sipped his wine and looked over the top of his goblet at Glorfindel. “I seriously doubt that anyone of us would do such a thing to Gil-galad. Maybe it was that clerk… Erestor, I believe is his name.” 

Glorfindel laughed. “You are incorrigible, my friend. Poor Gil-galad doesn’t stand a chance with you around, not to mention poor Erestor.” 

“He never did.”

The two friends sat down on the bank of the river. They met like this nearly every day. They usually drank a bottle of wine and talked about their day. Today they sat silently for a long time, each apparently lost in his own thoughts. 

“So what did he say about the otter?” Oropher finally asked because he couldn’t get image of Gil-galad and the otter out of his mind. 

“You don’t want to know. I doubt Sauron himself knew some of the words that the king used.”

Oropher laughed. “Good. The very idea brings happiness to my heart. It at least gave him something to think about besides that evil son of a demon who waits out there for us.”

“You should have seen him. His face turned so red that I feared he would die of apoplexy like humans do. Gil-galad sometimes has no sense of humor.” 

“Gil-galad has never had a sense of humor.”

Glorfindel grew quiet as he drank of the deep red wine. He looked out over the bleak landscape and looked back at Oropher. “So what will you do to him next?” 

“Me?” Oropher had not done this but he’d have liked for it to have been him. 

“Yes, you.”

“I thought perhaps I might send him the mate to that first otter. I am sure she’d love to search for her mate in the King’s tent.” 

“I think he might run you through if you send a second one.”

“I actually didn’t send the first one.” Glorfindel didn’t seem too surprised. 

The two sat in companionable silence until the wine was all gone. 

“Tomorrow… shall we meet again tomorrow?” Glorfindel asked as he stood and dusted his seat off. 

“Well, of course. Don’t we always?”

Oropher made his way back to his camp. He gathered his captains about him in his tent and they talked over what had happened that day. That did not take long, as not much happened most days. Theirs was a siege that consisted mostly of boredom and some days Oropher was sure that victory would come to the one who could endure the tedium of the long dull days. 

After the meeting, his dinner arrived along with his son, Thranduil. Father and son usually ate together in the evenings. They could have had the finest of foods but they always ate the same food that was served to the rest of their army. Oropher believed that the least of his army should live as well as their king. The food was nothing fancy but it was plentiful and good. 

“Did you send an otter to the Noldor king?” Oropher felt foolish, very foolish, but he had to ask. 

Thranduil slammed his goblet down on the table as if he were furious but he began to laugh, a loud hearty laugh that surprised Oropher. “Someone actually sent Gil-galad a live otter?” 

“Apparently it was an angry live otter too.” Oropher made no effort to keep a straight face.

Thranduil had laughed so hard that tears ran down his face. He wiped his eyes, drained his cup and rose. “On that note, I think I shall retire to my tent. I want to lie still and visualize that otter. I actually wish that I *had* sent it to him.”

Glorfindel arrived first at the river the next day. He not only brought wine but he had fresh bread and cheese with him. He spread a blanket for them to sit on as he wasn’t fond of getting his trousers dirty sitting on the bank every day. 

“Ah, there you are.” Oropher arrived hurriedly. “I didn’t think that my advisors were ever going to shut their mouths. They want to have a new battle flag made for the cavalry.” 

Glorfindel poured the wine. “Sounds like you’ve had a busy day then. I practiced sword fighting with Elrond and played cards with Isildur and won every hand. Humans are terrible gamblers.” 

“I will remember not to gamble with you.”

“Sounds like you think I cheated.” Glorfindel handed Oropher his wine with a grin.

“Did you?”

“Well, yes, but he doesn’t know that.”

Oropher shook his head and reached for a hunk of bread. He bit into it and sighed. “I think I shall steal your baker. Our food is good but our baker is not the best one in the Greenwood. I miss my wife’s bread. She is the best bread maker in my whole kingdom.”

The two met every evening for months, talking about their days and drinking a bottle of wine. The war escalated though and the siege was actually coming to an end. It would be over soon, one way or another. Every elf and man there knew that. They also knew that many of them would die soon, whatever the outcome. 

One evening as they drank their wine, Oropher reached in his pocket and removed a small box.

“I want to leave this with you, Glorfindel, in case I do not survive the coming days. It is a gold chain given to me by Melian many, many years ago when my wife and I dwelt in the great city of Doriath. It was a time of great wonders and Thranduil was born while we were there. I want my son to have it someday, yet I cannot give it to him myself. I fear that if I do, he will lose heart and will not be a good leader. My people will need good leadership after this war and I want Thranduil to be that leader for them.”

He opened the box and removed a small golden chain. Glorfindel drew in a breath at its beauty.

“When shall I give it to him?”

“You will know when. There will come a day when my son needs friends and I’d like you to be the friend to him that you are to me.” 

Glorfindel nodded his assent. He closed the box and put it in his pocket. Neither said anything for a moment then Glorfindel grinned at Oropher. “Do you suppose he’d like an otter in his tent?”

Oropher didn’t say a word for a second then burst out laughing. “You? You put the otter in Gil-galad’s tent?” 

“Who else? Gil-galad cursed, Elrond jumped up on the table, and poor Erestor nearly fainted. I wouldn’t have traded the sight for Feanor’s jewels.”

“And you let us take the blame?” 

“Again, who else? I have to live with them. You don’t.”

“You, my friend, are completely insane, but I think you have given me one of the happiest days of my life. ” 

Glorfindel smiled and nodded. “I am the *most* sane of elves. Maybe the only sane elf.”

“Perhaps you are.” 

Glorfindel patted the box in his pocket, picked up remnants of their picnic and headed back to the Noldor camp with a smile. 

~end~


End file.
